Month: October 2019

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The Gift of One Day at a Time

No matter who the addict in your life is – parent, partner, sibling, child, friend – I’m sure you’ve heard that ubiquitous phrase: One Day At A Time. And for good reason. No matter how much an addict wants to promise they will never drink or use again, they can’t. For them, each day is a new challenge – and a new choice. And for those who manage to stay sober, a new blessing.

Having dealt with a number of addicts that I loved – most of whom I, ultimately, lost – when I last realized I was dealing with an addict in a relationship, I was finally prepared. No enabling. No ultimatums about them – only the truth about ME. I will not be a part of your addiction. I will not be a victim of your addiction. I will not be involved with you while you feed your addiction. You choose for yourself.

Watching someone truly live one day at a time can be an unexpected blessing. Because someone you care about is living each day for itself, as a fresh start, in a sense so are you. They can only be sober today. Tomorrow the same fight will face them. And sometimes they will lose. But then there comes another day when they can choose sobriety again.

You are left having only one alternative if you want a healthy relationship with an addict. YOU have to live one day at a time as well. You can’t obsess over the wrong decisions they made in the past, because it’s counterproductive. You can’t spend every moment worrying about when the next time they fall off the wagon will be. You have to live each sober day with them as it comes and appreciate it for what it is. And that forces you to practice mindfulness. Which, if you embrace it, has some incredible benefits. The focus is on NOW and not THEN. You find yourself stopping to notice small gestures and individual moments that you might have missed before. Each individual moment of life has more meaning.

The truth is we have all made mistakes – and staying focused on the errors of the past simply traps us there. None of us truly know what tomorrow will bring. Curveballs abound in life. Accidents and catastrophes happen. The best we can do is create a disaster plan – and then focus on enjoying every moment we have. Just as recovering addicts must do – for the rest of their lives.

Of course, this is all easier said than done – both for the addicts and for those of us who love them. The past can haunt us both. And fear of reliving that past can be a heavy burden for everyone involved. So each day, we must try once again to accept the gift of a new opportunity and live in it, one day at a time.

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The Value of Forgiveness

My mother was a certifiable train-wreck who was both verbally and emotionally abusive, and in today’s would have lost her children due to neglect. She also allowed her two daughters to be sexually abused: she not only set up the situation initially, but continued actively encouraging unsupervised interactions that any sane parent would avoid. Who tries to FORCE their 7 and 10 year old daughters to go on a camping trip with an adult male relative and a few of his adult, male friends? My mother.

Then, when I finally came clean about the abuse as an adult, her initial reaction was, “Oh, poor John.” As if HE was the one abused and not the abuser.

Her cursing me up and down for LITERALLY spilling milk; calling my father every name in the book and his girlfriend a whore while she was having an affair with a married man who wasn’t separated; never once putting her children’s needs over her own desires; and lying to her children (NOT to protect them, but to protect herself – and continuing long after they were adults) on far too many occasions to count was status quo. The list goes on and on.

Naturally, there came a point when, as an adult, I felt I deserved an apology. Actually, many apologies, but I would have settled for one sincere, “I was a horrible mother and I’m so sorry.”

Of course, I didn’t get it. I even went as far as to totally stop all communication with her. Her response?

“What do you want from me? An apology? Okay, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For whatever you seem to think I did wrong.”

Shaking. My. Head.

It finally dawned on me. The problem with expecting someone to apologize is that YOU are expecting it of them. A true apology has to start with them, not you. They have to actually see the things they did wrong and truly feel bad about it. This is why making amends is the ninth, essential step for AA. It takes eight previous steps for an alcoholic or addict to be ready to truthfully understand and fully acknowledge how their actions and behaviors negatively impacted others – and honestly regret it.

My mother never did. And she never will.

At the age of 80, she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. She was suddenly this frail, crippled old woman who told me honestly, “I don’t remember much anymore.”

So, I decided to accept an apology. One I never got. I let go of my anger, and I forgave her. And you know what?

I won. The burden that was lifted from my spirit and soul was simply incredible. And when she passes, I won’t have to worry about having any guilt for leaving things between us as they were.

Now, I hug her when I see her and tell her I love her. I reach out on holidays. And I’m the one who feels better. And sleeps better. And, I think, is even a nicer, kinder person.

You aren’t always going to get the apologies you deserve. In fact, most of the time you probably won’t. But holding on to that grudge? It eats you alive. And you suffer far more than whoever you are angry with.

To paraphrase the Buddhaghoṣa, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal to strike another; you are the one who gets burned.”

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Why Am I So SAD?

I hate this time of year. I’m irritable and don’t want to do the things I used to love or even leave the house to see the places, people and things I used to enjoy. I want to sleep all the time, and I’m tired and draggy during the day even when I’ve had plenty of rest. And I know that it just gets worse as winter moves in. Honestly, I just want to hibernate like a bear until Spring comes.   

I get SAD. I feel sad. All the time, for no particular reason. I’m depressed and things seem hopeless, with plenty of guilt and self-blame because I SHOULD be going, doing or feeling something other than the gloom, stress and anxiety that seem to overwhelm me.

My appetite has gone crazy, and I crave comfort foods and sweets – all the time. I can be counted on to gain weight between now and spring.

I know I’m not alone. I think a lot more folks experience some degree of SAD than have ever been officially diagnosed, but most have come to think of it as a normal part of the changing seasons – when in reality it is anything but. Seasonal Affective Disorder is not just feeling down. It is a very real mental, physical and emotional condition that can negatively impact your life, health and relationships. So, naturally, I have it. The raging, on steroids, version.

Despite my current miserable mood, I do all the things I’m supposed to. I adjusted my meds after a consult with my psychiatrist. I make a point to exercise – especially when I just don’t feel like it. I force myself to go out to socialize or run errands, even though it’s the very last thing I feel like doing. I go to sleep and get up at a consistent time, no matter how much I want to just stay in bed.

I also get out for walks as often I can during these dreary months. Of course, when it’s raining nonstop, snowing or simply cloudy, that’s not nearly as effective a treatment as I wish. I’m already planning a few fall and winter trips to sunnier, warmer places to offset the effects of this season.

It’s not surprising that I first started to experience SAD when I moved north to Maryland from sunny Florida. Fall and winter used to be my favorite months – until my mother moved us to Maryland when I was 11. That’s when I first experienced clinical depression… a diagnosis I felt for many years was wrong. After all, I had been uprooted from all I knew and loved, taken away from my family, and moved to the armpit of Maryland just at the time I reached puberty. Of course I was unhappy. But, reflecting back, that was my first experience with SAD.

I was raised with plenty of sunshine and warmth all year-round, and my body and psyche simply went into withdrawal when it suddenly disappeared. Later, when I moved back to Florida to live with my dad, I began to suffer from the other type of seasonal affective disorder, summer depression, which affects those who live in warmer climates and have to face the unrelenting, sweltering high heat and humidity. We didn’t have air conditioning and we lived in Florida on the second floor of an apartment building with lots of windows. It was routinely in the 90’s or 100’s through the night. Need I say more?

For now, I know I simply have to buckle up and persevere. I remind myself that I made it through last year, and it WILL get better. It always does. As with all things, this too shall pass. It’s just going to be a lot of lifeless months before it does.

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Coming Up For Air

Surfacing from a depression is not unlike being saved from drowning. Suddenly, you can breathe again. The first few gasps may feel a bit choking, but you can tell that you are finally getting the oxygen you need.

A weight has been lifted from your shoulders, and you can stand and walk tall – when you had been feeling crushed by the effort of simply living. Your senses come alive: a veil is lifted from your eyes and colors seem brighter and objects more distinct; sound has a clarity you have been missing; your senses of taste and smell seem sharper as you realize how dulled they had become. Even touch has a different feel. Depression can make the world around you seem unreal – and sensation less solid.

When depression starts to lift, suddenly you feel alive in a way you had forgotten you could feel.

Face Pressed to Veil